


Can't Help Falling in Love

by youngandbitchy



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: Actor Tom Hiddleston, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Humor, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Romance, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Anxiety Disorder, Bittersweet Ending, Depression, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluffy Ending, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Reader-Insert, References to Depression, Romantic Fluff, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Self-Insert, Tom Hiddleston Is A Sweetheart, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Triggers, Tumblr: young-and-bitchy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-14 23:42:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16922607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youngandbitchy/pseuds/youngandbitchy
Summary: During a play night with the MCU cast, things get more personal than you thought they would.(Please, do not read this story if you're triggered by any of the tags above).





	Can't Help Falling in Love

If it came to a family metaphor, you were the cool single aunt that travelled and had awesome presents for everyone to the Avengers castmates.

That evening you were holding a small gathering, giving everyone presents after filming in Denmark. It was way past midnight. The centre table was full of glasses of wine, gift wrappers and spots of spilled cheese fondue. 

“We’re out!” Mackie announced when he went to serve himself more wine and only a drop fell on his glass. 

“At the bar.” You pointed at the small bar in a corner of your house. “Only from the nineteens to our decade! No one is pregnant nor getting married. No need to pull out the big guns.”

There were four couches around the centre table: Elizabeth and her boyfriend were on your left; Zoe Saldana and Chris Pratt on your right; Mackie, Sebastian and Chris Evans in front of you and Tom Hiddleston and you on the same couch. 

You weren’t one to drink wine. You couldn’t drink alcohol at all due to your medication, so you only kept bottles of it when cast mates or friends came by. 

“Uh, I have an idea!” Sebastian Stan exclaimed. “Let’s play FMK.” 

“Really? What are we, seventeen?” 

“What’s that?” Tom asked. 

“Fuck, marry, kill,” Pratt answered. “You’re given three choices and you have to choose which one what.” 

“I’ll play!” Evans exclaimed, clearly tipsy.

“Same!” Mackie backed up. 

You sighed. “All those who will be playing…” Only Tom, Elizabeth and her boyfriend kept their hands down. “Permission to use character names.” Granted. “Permission to use real names.” Nods. “Permission to use the character and real names of those who aren’t playing.” 

Given. 

By the looks of Pratt, he would use that to his advantage and what he thought was your as well. You were in love with Tom Hiddleston, but you didn’t want to approach the matter. You didn’t want to be. For months, you’d expected for it to go away…

It hadn’t.

“Okay. Who starts?” You asked. 

“Me,” Evans responded and thought for a few seconds. “Pratt, FMK: Thor, Loki, Heimdall.” 

Tom put his elbows on his knees, stooping forward and his thumb caressing his lip. You bit the inside of your bottom lip. 

“I’d fuck Heimdall, marry Thor and kill Loki.” Pratt looked at Tom who was chuckling. “Sorry, man.”

“Non-taken,” he answered with a grin. 

“My turn. (Y/N)…” 

“Yes, Pratt?” 

“The magic trinity: Strange, Loki and Scarlet Witch.” 

“Oh my God, they’re all so hot… Crap, okay.” You sat straighter in the couch. “I would… fuck Loki, marry Scarlet Witch and kill Strange.” Tom sipped in his glass with a smile. “Zoe.”

“Shoot,” she replied after having a sip of her wine.   

“Hm… Rocket, Groot and Quill.”

Zoe laughed. “How would that even work?!” She exclaimed as you laughed with her. “Very well, hm… kill Groot because, you know, he’s a teenager. I would… have sex with Quill and marry Rocket.” 

“What?!” Pratt responded as Zoe held onto her belly from the laughs. “How?!”   
The game went on for a couple more rounds, eventually escalating from characters to names of those present and people you knew.

“Zoe!” Mackie called. “Pratt, Evans and Hemsworth.” 

“No! That’s not fair,” Zoe stated and succumbed to the peer pressure. “Fine. I would have sex with Hemsworth, marry Evans and kill Pratt.” 

“Okay, I’m officially not talking to you,” Pratt said as you laughed so hard you would laugh on top of Tom’s shoulder. 

“I’m sorry! But… you’re like an older, dorkier sibling by now.”

“Dorkier?! Unbelievable!”

Zoe laughed for a bit longer. “Okay. (Y/N).”

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“Wait, let me think…”

“Uh! I know!” Pratt looked at you as he whispered names in Zoe’s ear.   
You rolled your eyes. “Good ones! Okay, okay… RDJ, Cumberbatch and Hiddleston.” 

You gulped, hoping your cheeks weren’t as red as you thought they were. You looked at Tom for a moment: you wouldn’t have a relationship with him, like, ever. He deserved better. He deserved a healthy, steady woman. You weren’t any of those. 

“Okay, given that I’m not a white dress lady, I would kill Cumberbatch, fuck RDJ and marry ocean blue eyes Tom Hiddleston,” you replied, looking at him.   
He gave you a smile. “I’m flattered.” 

You smiled his way a second longer than you should have, and you hoped no one noticed. “Okay, Stan…”

 

One second you were gone to the bathroom, and the next everyone was asleep in the living room and Tom was gone. 

You found him in the kitchen, leaving wine glasses and bottles on the counter.   
“You haven’t passed out!” You exclaimed. 

“No, I have not,” he grinned. 

“Good.” You threw him a towel he caught between his shoulder and hand. “I wash, you dry.” 

You left your coat in a chair. You were wearing a blue simple dress and you’d ditched the shoes a long time ago, replacing them for socks and slippers. 

You poured liquid soap in the sponge and started washing. “I go for one moment…” 

“Yeah… we’re getting old.” 

“They are. You’re not,” you answered. “There are theories about you being immortal. You knew that?” 

“No!” Tom chuckled as he dried the glass you’d passed him. 

“There’s plenty of evidence,” you said. “I’ll show you the post later. Point is: we’re becoming old, feeble, alcohol intolerant human beings.”

“Oh, no,” Tom shook his head. “Never alcohol intolerant.” You chuckled to his response, passing him another glass. “Hey… can I ask you a question?” 

“Sure. What is it?” 

Tom took a breath. “That thing… about not being a white dress lady. Does that mean you won’t get married if proposed?” 

You sighed. This was a topic you didn’t like discussing: the reasons for your decision of remaining alone. 

“I’ve had relationships before… Turns out I’m not good at those, so I think I’m safe of getting proposed to for now.”

“May I ask why?” 

He could. He was asking, which meant he cared about you. And you wanted him to care for you. Who didn’t want that from the person they were in love with? 

You took a deep breath when you met his gaze, deciding to confess. “There’s a reason why I don’t drink, why I don’t wear shorts or skirts, why I’m awake when everyone else is asleep… It’s a whole ordeal I’ve kept very hidden from the media and people and everyone.”

Tom closed the water, leaving the towel alone and giving you his undivided attention. You, on the other hand, didn’t have where to refugee. You had to do this. 

“You can talk to me if you wish to,” he mumbled. “But if you don’t…”  
“I wish to,” you interrupted him. 

You grabbed the towel Tom previously held and dried your hands, laying back against the counter. It took you awhile to talk, but Tom didn’t pressure you. He wanted you to know he was there for you, any time of any day.  

“I struggle with depression,” you admitted, swallowing the knot in your throat. “Like… a lot. Since I lost my grandfather. It comes and goes. It stays for a period of time and then leaves, but… a doctor told me a while ago I would have to take pills for the rest of my life.” You held back the tears as Tom listened to you, closely and carefully. “I have… scars on my thighs, so I don’t wear clothes that show even the slightest. I… tend to wake up in the middle of the night, sometimes yelling from the nightmares.   
“I get walked out on a lot, “ you continued. “Friends, partners. I push people away so they don’t have to deal with the mess I am.” 

“You give those people too much credit.” 

You lifted up your head and Tom was looking at you. For once, there was understanding in the eyes of someone you told the truth. Not pity, not judgement… understanding. And something else. 

“You deserve to be fought for, (Y/N).” Tom whipped a tear away with his thumb and put that same hand in the back of your neck. 

“You really think so?” You asked in a trembling voice, looking up into his eyes. 

“I do, but that doesn’t matter… it matters if you believe so.” 

You were able to control yourself… but you didn’t want to. He was there, saying these things to you that warmed your heart, that made you believe everything would be okay… You needed to kiss him. 

So you did. You pressed your lips against him for a second and then detached from him, hoping not to have overstepped… but his forehead remained on yours. 

“God, I love you, (Y/N).” 

His eyes didn’t lie. “Really, what an awful decision.” 

“It wasn’t a choice, and even if it had been…” He put a strand of hair behind your ear, his hand staying on your cheek. “I would’ve chosen you again… and again… and again…” 

You both chuckled. When the smiles died down, you put a hand over his. “I’m a handful.” 

“That’s okay,” he assured you. “I have two hands.” 

You let out a giggle. “Stop it. Be serious!” 

“I am!” But he was laughing. 

“So you want to be with me?” You asked him. 

He smiled. “Yeah.” 

“Like, as in a relationship?” 

“Uh-huh.” 

“Even though you’re aware I have a ton of baggage?” 

“I have strong arms.” You chuckled. “I want to be in a relationship with you, (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” 

Another tear rolled down your face. “Fine.” 

“Fine?” 

“Totally. I… maybe… I should fight too. For myself.”  

“I’m proud.” 

You nodded. “Me too.” 

This time, he was the one who kissed you first. Your entire life had been a war with your greatest demons, but now, it felt good not to be a one person army. 

“Yes!” You heard someone yell and the voice scared you. Tom got startled as well. It was Pratt. “Finally, yeah. Yeah, this is good. This is gold!” 

“Really, P?” You inquired. “A bit of privacy, please?” 

“Oh, sure. Right… Congrats!” He exclaimed before walking out of the kitchen. 

When you looked back at Tom, he smiled. You smiled too.


End file.
